After 33 Minutes
by hls-myth
Summary: My take on how some of the pilots could have been affected by the lack of sleep from the episode 33 Minutes. An old story from my early days, but a favorite. One-shot.


Faces. Flashes. Fire. Screams. Shouts. Lights. Darkness. Punches. Needles. Restraints. Bracelets. Fists…

Only one face I saw so rarely. And it was the one face I always looked for. I was just a pilot. One gone mad during a Cylon raid. This cell in the brig was my home. I liked it. I felt comfortable here, safe. Away from all those other frakkin' humans obsessed with killing. I was safe, and I didn't have to worry about it.

It first happened when the Cylons kept attacking every thirty-three minutes. No sooner did we jump than we began calculating the next set of jump coordinates. We already jumped at least one hundred times, and none of us had slept in over one hundred sixty hours. I was so tired, and the stims they gave us only made me worse. They had the opposite affect they were supposed to. My body reacted badly, and they sent me to the medical unit. I remember the doc saying that my brain no longer functioned properly either. Basically I'd snapped, and my reaction to the pills only complicated the matter. Doc said he thought the pills caused my already over-driven body to do the only thing it knew: completely shut down and leave my brain in standby until conditions improved. Sadly, they didn't, and the medics were forced to move me to the brig – the only place available to keep a crazy pilot. They needed the beds in the infirmary for actual wounded patients.

Once or twice, Captain Adama came to check on me. I felt bad that I couldn't move or say anything to my CAG, but my body wouldn't respond. He talked to me, asked me to hurry up and recover because he needed all the pilots he could get his hands on. He even went as far as saying that I was one of the best.

I tried to recover, I really did. But eventually I lost touch of everything around me and slipped back into safe oblivion.

I woke up one morning when my door opened. It had been a while since I'd been aware of such things. I somehow hoped that my recovery wouldn't relapse like last time. I wanted to be useful again.

A couple of faces I'd seen frequently were talking to me, like nothing was wrong.

"Come on, Marchelle, you know what? Doc said we could give you a nice hot bath," Lina said.

"Yeah, he said it would be very good for you. And you'll feel much better too."

Lina was a fellow pilot. She and I grew up together on Tauron. Raya we had met when we signed up. We'd been bunkmates a long time. They picked me up by the arms and grabbed me around the waist as they tried to make me stand. I succeeded somewhat because they started cheering. I guess I hadn't done that last time. They walked me to the wheelchair and sat me in it, rolling me to the med unit.

They pulled the curtain, undressed me, and lowered me into the steaming bath. I took a quick breath. I was not expecting it to be so hot.

"Doc said this would be great for you," Raya said.

Lina laughed. "Yeah, they've cut rations again to conserve energy, so even _we_ don't get hot water anymore."

"Lucky girl gets a hot bath authorized by the commander himself," Raya joked.

The hot soapy water felt entirely all too good. After thirty minutes in the hot water, they helped me out.

"Marsch, hon, are you okay?" Raya asked.

"Ow." My neck was sore and I tried to say something, but my voice didn't want to work properly. My tongue felt thick and there seemed to be something stuck in my throat.

They dropped their towels and tilted my head up.

"What did you say?" Lina asked.

"Ooww," I tried again.

"Oh my gods! You – you're actually talking again!" Raya held back her squeal and picked up the towel again.

When they had dressed me in clean, decent clothes, they beckoned the doc to take another look at me. When he had finished his examination, he sat back with a smile.

"You're doing much better Lieutenant. How do you feel?"

At first, all I could do was nod. I had to concentrate for a moment. "Hungry," I answered.

Doc Cottle just chuckled. "Why don't you take her down with you for some chow. I'll send an officer with you, in case anything should happen. But I think some company and normal conversation might do her some good." He looked back at me. "Would you like to go?"

I just looked at him. "Uh…where?"

Doc Cottle smiled. "Would you like to go with them to get something to eat?"

After a moment, I nodded a bit drunkenly. I wasn't used to people talking to me, asking questions and expecting answers.

I'd almost forgotten what the chow hall looked like. I was used to getting my meals in the brig and eating them on the floor. There were many officers, eating and talking like nothing was wrong. This was how things were supposed to be. I paused in the hatchway and looked at them. My eyes jumped from person to person. Some I recognized; others I didn't. There were some new Viper pilots. But I didn't know them either.

"Come on, Marsch, let's get that chow. No one's noticed you yet," Raya commented.

"That might be a good thing. Too much excitement might be overwhelming for her." Lina grabbed my chair and parked me at a table. "Why don't you stay here while I get your food?"

I slowly nodded. I was suddenly very tired even though I was in the wheelchair. I stayed where she had rolled me, and stared down the table. I noticed the familiar grooves in the metal and traced them with my fingers. Suddenly I heard someone clear their throat in front of me. I froze, and looked up shakily. I just saw eyes, but for some reason I could not see the rest of the face. I blinked several times to help my vision, but it did no good. So I just stared at the eyes.

"Marschele, it's Apollo. Are you sure you're feeling well enough to be down here?"

I swallowed as I tried to register what he'd said. I tried to nod, but I think it came out as something a bit more jerky.

"Sir, she'd just been from Doc Cottle. She's just regained mental consciousness, but she was hungry and wanted food."

"So we brought her down with us, at Doc's approval," Raya added.

"I'm…okay," I responded slowly.

Captain Adama looked at them questioningly. "It takes here a little while to process what you've said," another pilot answered. I recognized Kara's voice. Starbuck was the best pilot in the fleet, and everyone wanted to fly like her.

I smiled when I heard her voice and began looking around for her. She put her hand on my shoulder and I tried to look behind me.

She brought her face down to mine, and whispered, "Welcome back, Marsch. We really need your ass out there."

I tried to brush her away from me, shaking my head. "No," I was able to mumble. "No, no, no no no no no nono!" My eyes were shut tight.

"Marsch, it's okay, you're not going out there." Raya hugged my shoulders.

"Calm down. Look, look what I brought you."

I took a deep breath, but I couldn't open my eyes.

"Come on, it's okay."

I looked through my hands and saw the food tray. Whatever it was, it looked very good. I slowly picked some up and brought it to my nose. It smelled very good, so I took a small bite. I took another bite, eating it as fast as I could. They had to make me slow down, handing me bits at a time. It was wonderful to finally be eating, and eating at a real table, with my friends.

"Gods, I wish I could eat that stuff with your gusto," Kara joked.

When they took my back to my room in the brig, they made sure to tell me I wouldn't need to be there much longer. Soon I could sleep in my own bunk and do my normal duties aboard _Galactica_.

The doc decided to move me back to the med unit so he could monitor my progress. I was confined to the bed, but allowed visitors. They were a little shy at first, not knowing what to say and not wanting to upset me again into a relapse. Two days after I woke up, Commander Adama came in to see me. I was a little scared and intimidated. He was such a great man, a leader I admired, and here he was, come to see me. I didn't know if I could answer any of his questions.

"I heard you finally came to," he commented with a genuine smile.

I didn't know how to respond, so I said nothing.

"It's okay, you don't have to talk to me now," he assured me quietly. "I am just very relieved that you pulled through okay." He gave me another smile before he turned to leave. I didn't want to see him go.

"I'm sorry," I managed in a whisper.

"Why? You did nothing to be sorry for."

"I can't…handle being…a pilot."

"You did what you could. That's all I've ever asked of my crew." He gently took my hand. "And if you think you'd be better working in a different area on this ship, I'll make it happen."

It took me a moment to register what he'd said.

"Really?" I asked. "I'm…not… trained in anything… else." Being a pilot was all I knew.

"You concentrate on getting better. I'll work on finding someone to teach you something. But don't you worry." He patted my hand and turned to leave again.

"Thank you…sir."

He smiled and left after a word to Doctor Cottle.

I had a few other visitors after the Commander, but again the conversations were strained and rather unstimulating.

I was slowly coming back into the world I knew. It wasn't like a Viper pilot to suddenly freeze and go crazy, and I knew it. Didn't stop it from happening, though. It seemed as though people forgot about me. I took that as a good sign, because I didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me. They had better, more important things to worry about.

When Doc Cottle finally released me six weeks later, I was told to report directly to the Commander's quarters. Adama was there, looking over stacks of papers in front of him. I stood at attention and saluted.

"You asked to see me, sir."

"Yes." He looked up from what he was doing. "At ease. Please take a seat."

I did as he requested, unfamiliar with this somewhat softer side of him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Still a little jumpy, sir, but other than that, I'm ready to be out of bed, sir."

Adama chuckled. "I can imagine. Well I want to make it clear that you are needed aboard _Galactica_. However, given your previous circumstances, I won't push you to do anything you're not ready to." He took a deep breath. "We _are_ short of Viper pilots, but I'll give you time to reacquaint yourself with this ship. You understand that I do not feel comfortable assigning you to something you can't handle. But, with your expertise in this area, it's difficult to put you elsewhere."

I nodded. It seemed as though he hadn't found a suitable position for me after all.

The commander continued. "After reviewing your record and talking with Captain Apollo and the Chief, it appears as though you have some skill in repairing things." He looked at me. "Are their reports accurate?"

I swallowed. "Well, sir, I mostly learned just because it wasn't done when I wanted. Whether or not the repairs were correct, I don't know. But they worked just fine. At least for the time being."

"So you're saying that you're not that good at repairs?"

"I could most definitely frak something up, sir."

"Well, you probably haven't noticed, but most things around here aren't brand new. We've had to do whatever we can to keep them functioning properly. Including our Vipers. Your temporary fixes could greatly help us out."

I nodded. "Okay, sir. I'll do what I can."

Adama handed me my orders. "That's all I ask."

"Thank you, sir."

"Glad to have you back, Lieutenant." He shook my hand. "Report to Chief in the morning."

"Aye, sir."

I made my way to the bunks with my small box of belongings. I found an empty bed and claimed it as my own. After hanging up my uniforms and putting away the other few things, I laid down for a nap. I heard people come in, laughing, yelling, complaining, but I was too tired to care. I was still recovering from everything. I heard the crew start talking about me, but I didn't care. I was back amongst other people.


End file.
